


Past Imperfect

by orangeangora



Category: The Gift (2015 Edgerton)
Genre: Bullying, Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-14 23:24:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4584102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangeangora/pseuds/orangeangora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They say you should let bygones be bygones."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Past Imperfect

They say you should let bygones be bygones.

They say you should bury the hatchet.

They say you should forgive and forget.

But sometimes the truth isn't that simple.

The truth is that revenge is a dish best served cold.

The truth is that you may be able to forgive, but ultimately, you can't forget.

The truth is that while you may be done with the past, the past may not be done with you.

 

I recognize Simon immediately. He hasn't changed at all. At least not outwardly.

That effortless air of entitlement. He's trying to get the store to ship his order home that day. (Good luck with that, it's almost closing time.) When the clerk says sorry, no, I see a flicker of anger in his eyes, then he downshifts back into being Mr. Nice Guy. Mr. Everybody's Best Buddy. Apparently, the geyser would not erupt today.

I suppose it wasn't too surprising that I'd eventually bump into him - I heard through the grapevine that he and his wife, Robyn, have moved back to his - our - hometown.

Still, seeing him in the flesh was a shock.

When I go up and introduce myself, he claims not to remember me.

Which he's also good at - faking total amnesia. So I shouldn't have been too surprised. He really doesn't remember me? But eventually, his memory is jogged, and he introduces me to his wife. Even agrees that we should stay in touch. Which I'm not sure he means, but what the hell? I might as well drop by. This might be interesting. Besides, maybe he feels bad about what happened between us in high school. Maybe he wants to make amends.

 

Anyway, their new house is nice. If you like glass.

Which is why I brought them glass cleaner. Later on, that is. The first gift was a bottle of wine.

It seems kind of hazardous, if they had kids. Nice, safe neighborhood to raise them in, though.

Speaking of kids, they didn't yet. (So his life wasn't perfect, after all.)

When giving me a tour, his wife, Robyn, takes me past their nursery, which is how I find out that they'd lost a child. Also that Simon has a monkey phobia - interesting. I hadn't been aware of that particular weakness. But I tuck it away for future reference.

I do a lot of that in my early visits with them, by the way. Gathering reconnaissance, I believe it's called.

For a little while, I think maybe we could put things behind us and move on. Until the day, I drop by and help Robyn hook up their DVD player.

Until the day, I go into their kitchen and saw the word "weirdo" next to my name on their fridge.

And all the old feelings: the shame, bewilderment and finally, anger erupt.

So I misjudged him.

Simon hasn't changed one bit.

That afternoon, the cogs in my brain whir to life and begin turning.

That afternoon, the first seeds of my grand plan are born.

 

Two reasons why I chose to invite Simon and Robyn to dinner at my boss's McMansion. Other than the fact that he was away for the week, and I had a spare key.

1\. It's easier to wire.

2\. Who can resist the urge to snoop in a place like that when presented with the opportunity, which I hand them early on? Pretend I had a call to take and conveniently left them alone. They take the bait.

When I return, Simon starts grilling me on just what it was that I did. Translation: How did a loser like you wind up with a place like this? 

"Well, I'm afraid," I confess in my best I-have-a-secret voice, "that you have caught me in a lie." And I continue, basically telling them that I'm in the middle of an acrimonious divorce. All the while thinking that now, he really has to apologize. I don't think it's possible to make myself look any more pathetic than I just have. 

But Simon stands, orders Robyn to go out to the car and then tells me that things are through between us. That's when I feel all that old anger at him re-ignite. But I restrain myself. I'd start with little things first. See how he liked being toyed with for a change. 

I had to admit I got a kick out of trapping the two of them on the property on their way out. 

Don't dish it out, if you can't take it, I think watching their car peel out of the driveway.

Then I played the recording back. After what had just occurred, I wasn't too surprised. He was disgusted by me. She was disgusted by his immaturity concerning me.

With a little time and effort, I could turn that into my favor.

To finalize our "breakup," I send them a note saying that I had been willing to "let bygones be bygones." No elaboration. But enough to pique Robyn's curiosity. I can just picture her pestering Simon for details. And obviously, if he keeps playing dumb, she's going to eventually seek them out on her own. Find out the truth. 

Let the games begin. 

 

OK, so I poisoned their fish. But I had nothing to do with their dog running away.

Or Danny McDonald, poor bastard. Yes, I heard about that, too. I guess that's all the proof I need that bullies never change. 

When I was in high school, Simon started a rumor that I'd been molested by an older man. And my father found out. He tried to kill me.

I can see how speaking up and admitting that you lied would put a dent in your image as a decent guy, but wouldn't someone decent do the right thing in the end?

When I woke up in the hospital, heavily sedated and bandaged, it seemed like there was a revolving line of people in and out who finally wanted the truth. Too little, too late. But my dad did end up in prison, and the authorities transferred me to a school where I could complete my education, where I'd still be the weird kid, but at least, not the kid with the gruesome backstory. Not that it would have worked today. Thank god, I grew up in the pre-social media era.

They told me this way I'd "be safe."

The truth is, I don't think I ever knew what that felt like in the first place. When you grow up with a father like that, the monsters you fear aren't under your bed or hiding in your closet, but down the hall.

I'd like to think after landing in prison, he learned what it's like to have to constantly watch your back in case you inadvertently trigger someone's paranoia and rage, but that's probably wishful thinking. Not that I'd know for sure, I haven't seen him in years.

Now if someone did something like that you, and then years later showed no remorse, would you let bygones be bygones? 

I didn't think so. 

 

Simon was the one who seeks me out next. I have to admit, I wasn't expecting that move from him. Anyway, he waylays me after work. And then attacks me when I refuse to accept his lame attempt to apologize.

I wasn't fifteen anymore. I could have fought back.

I hadn't lied about being in the military. While I couldn't kill a man with my bare hands, I could have easily left him with injuries severe enough that he might have considered seeking medical attention.

Instead I just curl into the fetal position and let him pummel me.

All because I wouldn't accept his non-apology.

I let you win this time, you prick, I want to shout after him but restrain myself.

A parking garage is not the most disgusting place I've been beaten up in, but it's close.

No one else heard. No one else saw.

But the damage, I'd make sure of, would not go unnoticed. Unspoken.

I might have lost this battle, but in the end, I'd be the one who won the war.

 

I arrive at the hospital to visit Robyn looking like hell, which is my intention. I come bearing flowers with my eyebrow stiches visible. I don't miss her taking in my injuries and putting two and two together. Realizing that whatever her husband claimed, his "apology" did not go well.

(I have to admit the sling, which I slipped on in the elevator on the way up, is a nice touch.)

She lies propped against the pillow like a broken doll. I offer her my gift. She tells me that the baby is healthy, despite its premature arrival.

"I'm glad," I tell her. "Good people deserve good things."

And I mean it.

Meanwhile her husband is getting a gift of his own. You might call it a dose of his own medicine.

I'd like to think that she's going to come to her senses and leave him. But I've done my part.

The rest is up to her.

 

"New dad?" the receptionist had asked on my way in. To which I just smiled. Let her think what she liked.

But she's wrong. I never assaulted Robyn.

Simon was already convinced - and I have the recording to prove it - that I am obsessed with his wife to the point where I want to sleep with her. I shouldn't take it personally, I doubt it's the first time he's mistaken an overture of friendship for a desire to have sex.

The ground between them was already poisoned long before I showed up that day in the store.

I simply planted a seed, stood back and watched it sprout.

Some bullies don't outgrow their behavior, they simply get craftier in disguising it. They grow up and become someone else's nightmare. Their legacy lives on, and the scars they leave may fade but don't disappear completely.

I'd like to claim that my reasons for revenge were partly altruistic, that I did it not just for me, but all the people Simon has bullied over the years.

But that would be lying. And there's been enough of that already in this story.

The truth is, that I did it for myself.

I thought I'd feel triumphant once the plan was finally executed. But all I feel is hollow.

Maybe the truth is that I'm not any better than he is.

Or maybe the fact that I'm even wondering means I am.

What would have happened if Simon had let the past stay the past, or as I couldn't help expecting, apologized. A real apology, that is, not one that he was guilted into by his wife?

There's no way I'll never know the answer to that question.

But then neither will he.


End file.
